


Share One More Drink With Me

by eastern_westward_home (orphan_account)



Series: Albino Apologies ~ PruCan [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay, Gift Fic, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Slow Romance, honestly the only thing that might be a trigger warning, idk - Freeform, is the way that Matthew thinks of himself, suicide is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26012635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/eastern_westward_home
Summary: Matthew is broken.He is alone, and nobody cares.Nobody, that is, except his brother and Gilbert Beilschmidt.Or,where Matthew is hurting inside and Gilbert tries to help him.
Relationships: America & Canada (Hetalia), America/Russia (Hetalia), Canada/Prussia (Hetalia), implied America/Russia, prucan - Relationship
Series: Albino Apologies ~ PruCan [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888027
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Share One More Drink With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Gilbert hasn’t yet come up with his “Birdie/Little Bird” nickname yet - that is going to be in another oneshot.  
> This oneshot is also dedicated to someone. Leoncino, I know that you will never read this, at least, not on Ao3. Maybe one day, I’ll print it out and hand it to you, but that is later in our future. Love you~

It was a crisp winter evening, with snow gently floating down on the wind to rest on Matthew’s hair and shoulders. A snowflake landed on his nose, and he lifted a mitted hand to wipe it away. 

The sun had gone down behind the mountains, and a chill had set in; but it was a chill that did not affect Matthew. It gave him a quiet comfort, for it reminded him that it would eventually get warmer, get better. To Matthew, the cold was reminiscent of the fact that nothing was permanent, and everything would be alright, in the end.

Someday.

Right now though, it seemed that he would never heal, he’d never be perfect, or good in anyway or-

Matthew stopped his thoughts from hurtling out of control. He felt like a slow motion train wreck - sure, it was a cliche feeling, but it was true - he felt unable to steer himself back to reality. He felt as if he was sliding across rails, unable to slow down or stop; he felt that he would surely crash, and when he did, it would be a spectacular catastrophe. 

His breath hitched. He could feel this _aching_ in his chest, clawing at his heart and shredding him from the inside out. 

Matthew stared miserably out at the white-capped mountains, then at the snow covered trees, and then at the peaceful lake directly below him. He stood on the bluffs above it, and if he stepped off the rock he would fall into the water. 

_It’s funny,_ he thought, _how one step in the wrong direction could end my life._

Then, horrified that he had even thought such a thing, he bit down on his tongue, as hard as he could without drawing blood. 

_I’m not depressed,_ he told himself. _I’m just… I… I’m…_

He couldn’t find the right words to describe what he felt, what he was inside. He never could - and even if he was able to find the right words to say, no one would listen.

No one ever did.

It was like no one cared, and indeed, no one ever seemed to notice the shy Canadian. 

Tears welled up in Matthew’s eyes, and he felt that oh-so-familiar scratchy feeling at the back of his throat.

_No one cares, no one notices, no one listens._

Then he found it - the perfect word to describe him: _nobody._

Matthew was just a Canadian nobody, unimportant and unvalued. 

_Well,_ he thought, _no one cares but my brother, but that doesn’t count, since he’s gone most of the time. I never see him, anyhow, since he’s living in Florida, with his boyfriend._

Sniffling, Matthew crouched down to grab a rock, and he threw it with as much force as he could into the lake. 

It pattered against the ice, skittering across and finally disappearing from Matthew’s view. 

_Just like me,_ he thought. _Unseeable._

A part of him wished that people cared about him, people other than his overprotective brother, who was constantly checking up on him.

The other wished that nobody cared, so he could finish the rat race of life and finally be free from himself.

He knew he didn’t have the guts to kill himself though. 

_Who am I kidding?_ Matthew thought, scuffing his sneakers against the bluff, causing some small pebbles to fall onto the ice below. _I’d probably chicken out or something. And besides, if I did, Alfred would freak out and I’d hurt him and he might cry and then he might become depressed, or even die and we can’t have that happening, can we? Although to be honest, I don’t know why he’d cry for me._

_I’m a worthless nobody._

Mentally, he kicked himself. 

_Dammit, Matthew!_ he chided. _You can’t think like this. You will be fine, you just have to force that smile onto your face and bear the pain. It’s not permanent. It will pass._

“Beautiful spot for a walk, am I right?” someone asked from behind him.

Matthew turned, and started in surprise. 

The man standing before Matthew looked like a vampire, especially since the moon was shining its silver rays into his face. He had platinum silver hair and crimson eyes, and he was wearing a black turtleneck with a silver eagle emblazoned over his heart. 

“Y-yeah, it is,” whispered Matthew, as he hadn’t used his vocal chords in so long (there was really no point to, since no one listened to him in the first place. He coughed, and then repeated it, louder.

“Canada is really beautiful,” the stranger said, craning his head to look up at the sky. He had a slightly German accent, but it was different from a German accent, and this curious lilt to his voice was strangely appealing to Matthew. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, turning back to look at the mountains. “Are you from around here?”

“No,” said the man. “I come from what used to be Prussia. It’s kind of a part of Germany now.”

He walked to stand beside Matthew.

“Oh…” said Matthew awkwardly. He didn’t quite know what to say. “So… uh… are you visiting, then?”

“Yes and no. I live in Canada, but I’m visiting this city.”

“Ah,” said Matthew. He felt unable to form words, felt that familiar anxiety set in. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stay grounded in reality. This was, in fact, the longest conversation he had had with a stranger in a while, and he was starting to feel anxious and worried.

“You have pretty eyes,” the Prussian commented suddenly.

Matthew looked at him, startled. No one had ever said that to him, much less even noticed his eyes.

“I… do?” asked Matthew. 

“Yeah,” said the man. “You don’t see many eyes like that. It’s unique.”

Then he paused, smiled, and held out his hand. “I’m Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt.”

Matthew hesitated, and then shook his hand. “Matthew Williams.”

…

The next few weeks passed by quickly. Gilbert and Matthew realised that they were very compatible, and quickly became close friends.

Matthew found himself spilling his secrets to Gilbert. He didn’t spill _all_ of them, however. The ones he had to keep - the ones about himself - he wrote _those_ down in a little blue notebook and talked about Gilbert to Alfred.

“He’s amazing!” gushed Matthew one day, while on call with Alfred. “He’s so sweet and funny and kind!”

Alfred laughed. “That’s great to hear, bro!”

“Yeah! And I think- I think I might even _love_ him,” said Matthew, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Ooh!” squealed Alfred. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“What?!?” exclaimed Matthew in disbelief. “Of _course_ not!”

Alfred clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Oh, Matthew…”

…

Slowly though, Matthew’s feelings for the albino grew. 

“I’m certain now”, he said to Alfred, “that I love him. I just wish that I could tell if he liked me.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” said Alfred with a chuckle.

Matthew rolled his eyes and tried to squash the churning feeling in his stomach.

...

Despite this, Alfred was a huge support, always there when Matthew needed someone to rant and ramble to.

...

And, in his own way, Gilbert was a huge support, too. Every time Matthew visited with Gilbert, he felt happy. It was a pleasant feeling, one that he soon grew to crave.

…

Matthew was lying on his bed, absentmindedly eating a leftover pancake from breakfast, when the phone rang.

Knowing that there were only two people that it could be, he leapt to his feet and hurried into the kitchen, where his phone was charging.

To his immense joy, he found that it was Gilbert who was calling.

“Hey!” he said, picking up the phone.

“Hi!” replied Gilbert. “How are you doing?”

Matthew was silent. He still felt unworthy of everything, and he desperately wanted to tell Gilbert that he loved him, but at the same time, he felt happy.

“I don’t know,” he said. 

Instantly, Gilbert’s tone changed to one of concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” said Matthew. “...not exactly.”

“What is it? Is something bothering you?” Gilbert asked.

“Sort of? I don’t really know…”

“Can I come over? Maybe I can help you,” said Gilbert.

“Sure,” replied Matthew, although he doubted that Gilbert would be able to help him. 

_After all, even a someone like Gilbert can’t help a nobody like me._

…

_Knock._

_Knock-knock._

Matthew walked to the door and opened it.

Gilbert stood there, looking worried.

“Are you alright?” he asked, in that accent that nearly drove Matthew silly with love.

“Y-yeah?” Matthew shook his head. “I don’t know. Sorry for making you drive all this way.”

Gilbert placed a hand on Matthew’s shoulder, making Matthew’s skin tingle. Then he looked into Matthew’s eyes. “Matthew. Look at me.”

Violet eyes locked with crimson ones. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, okay? I enjoy your company - and any excuse to drive over,” said Gilbert.

Matthew looked away. “Sor-” he began, and then cut himself off. 

“Okay, now let’s sit on the couch and have a heart-to-heart discussion,” Gilbert said.

Matthew admired his confidence.

Gilbert walked into the living room, and Matthew closed the door and wandered into the kitchen to grab a couple of beers.

When he returned, Gilbert was already sprawled on the couch. Upon seeing the beers in his arms, Gilbert’s eyebrows raised.

“Didn’t know you drink,” he commented.

Matthew shrugged. “I don’t often do, I just keep them in the fridge, just in case.”

 _Just in case I want to forget who I am,_ he thought, but he didn’t say that out loud. 

Sitting down, he handed one to Gilbert, and they opened the beers in silence.

“So.. anything you want to say?” Gilbert asked.

Matthew took a deep breath. “I don’t think I can say it. I- I wrote it down though-”

Gilbert nodded. “Can I see what you’ve written, then?”

Matthew blushed slightly. “The only thing is…”

“Is?” prompted Gilbert.

Matthew set his cup down, ran his hands through his hair nervously. “I don’t- I don’t want you to think of me- think of me- well, differently than you did-”

Gilbert laughed.

“It’s alright,” he said. “I won’t. I _promise_.”

Matthew chewed his lip nervously. He wanted to trust Gilbert. 

He knew that in his heart, he did.

Matthew nodded. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said. 

He stood, and walked into his bedroom. Snatching his notebook off the shelf, he walked back and thrust the notebook at Gilbert. Then he proceeded to grab his fluffy white blanket from the floor and wrap himself in it, burying his face so Gilbert wouldn’t see the shame in his eyes.

…

“You… you feel like this?” asked Gilbert softly, once he had read through it. “Have you told anyone else?”

Matthew peeked out of the folds of fluff around him, and shook his head. He didn’t trust himself to speak, certain that his voice would tremble, break.

Break like him. 

_Broken things are worthless. I’m broken. I’m worthless._

“Not even Alfred?” 

_I told Alfred,_ Matthew thought, but he said nothing. 

He scratched his fingernails against his left forearm, the pain bringing everything back into focus.

“I told Alfred,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Then he disappeared back into the blanket.

He felt a hand on his back. 

“Hey,” said Gilbert. “I’m no therapist, but I think I can maybe help you.”

_Help? I don’t need help, do I?_

Matthew felt the blanket being pulled off, but he made no move to do anything. He just stayed there, hunched over, his right hand still clawing at his left.

Then Gilbert leaned over and gave him a hug. 

Matthew stiffened slightly. 

Out of all of their visits, Gilbert had never hugged him, and the sudden closeness brought Matthew’s other senses to life. He could smell the faint scent of pine, of rain; he could smell the wurst and the smoky woodfire.

 _Kiss him! Kiss him!_ chanted the voice inside his head.

Matthew didn’t, though. Instead he chose to hug Gilbert back, but tighter.

He had forgotten, in all his years of solitude, how much he had enjoyed human contact.

He felt tears welling up in his eyes but he blinked them back down. 

_I love you, Gilbert,_ he thought.

He wished he had Gilbert’s confidence. Maybe then Matthew would be able to speak his mind.

“It will get better,” murmured Gilbert into Matthew’s ear.

This time, Matthew _did_ cry. A single tear, that slipped down his face and onto Gilbert’s shoulder. 

“I will never leave you,” Gilbert said, somewhat fiercely. “I will be your friend until you don’t want to be mine- and… and…”

“And?” prompted Matthew, although his heart had sunk like a broken ship at the use of “friend”.

Gilbert pulled back, gazed into Matthew’s violet eyes.

He wiped away the trail of wetness that the tear had left with his thumb, leaving a trail of his own behind - a trail of tingles on Matthew’s skin.

“Such beautiful eyes,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

Then he leaned forward again, and kissed Matthew gently.

“I will be your lover, if you will be mine,” he whispered, after kissing him.

“Yes,” Matthew whispered back, his heart soaring. He kissed Gilbert back, somewhat hesitantly.

“I love you,” murmured Gilbert. 

“I-” Matthew choked on his words, which had shrivelled up at the back of his throat. He coughed, tried again.

It came out as a hoarse whisper. “I love you, too.”

 _I said it!_ thought Matthew. _Quiet, sure, but still!_

He nuzzled his face into Gilbert’s shirt.

 _Thank goodness for Gilbert’s confidence,_ he thought.

Then Gilbert said, “share one more drink before I go?”

Matthew nodded. “Sure.”

 _Don’t go,_ he wanted to say. _I don’t want you to go._

He said nothing, as per usual.

Even though his heart had healed somewhat with Gilbert’s confession, Matthew was, and always would be, a worthless nobody.

A worthless, broken nobody. 

~the end~ 

**Author's Note:**

> IT WILL GET BETTER, I SWEAR-  
> And for those of you who are wondering when tf I'll update Beauty and the Beast, I honestly have no idea when. I really need to edit the plot a bit, so I think I might end up working on that first, before writing chapter 11. Bear with me, please! I'll update someday...


End file.
